


A Phoenix Rising

by IrishSkye



Series: A Phoenix Rising [1]
Category: Star Wars (What If?), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Shadows of the Empire - Steve Perry, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Sun (Star Wars), F/M, Gen, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:21:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28690842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishSkye/pseuds/IrishSkye
Summary: An alternate universe Star Wars story.Many months after the Empire's victory at Endor and the decimation of the Rebel Fleet, a young woman broken by slavery and abuse comes to Prince Xizor with a request that he end her life;  the request of a former warrior to one worthy to do the deed.  But the Dark Prince promises her a new life under the protection of Black Sun and the chance to make her enemies pay for all that she has suffered, a chance to bring down the Empire. She becomes a trusted confidant to the prince, and eventually his mistress, before he sets her on an even more glorious, glamorous, and dangerous new path which will have her rubbing elbows with the Imperial elite and a charismatic--and dangerous--Grand Admiral.
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Original Character(s), Xizor (Star Wars)/Mystery Woman, Xizor (Star Wars)/Unnamed Character
Series: A Phoenix Rising [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2109069
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2
Collections: The Phoenix--a Star Wars Alternate Universe Story





	1. The Absence of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate universe Star Wars story that has been in my head for a while and that I have started obsessing over lately, but I don't want to go through the trouble of writing it if it is just going to sit in my computer and never be seen. If you have ANY interest in seeing this story continue, please be sure to let me know.
> 
> For purposes of this Alternate Universe timeline, these plot points have been dropped for the following reasons: 

> 
>   
> \-- **Xizor knowing Anakin Skywalker and Vader are the same person** \- in Shadows of the Empire, this knowledge is simply dropped in with no explanation with no explanation as to how Xizor got it, making it far too convenient. It made no sense because only Ben, Yoda, and Palpatine knew, therefore, I removed it.  
> \-- **Black Sun sent bounty hunters after Luke** \- Since Xizor could not possibly know Vader is Anakin, he could not know Luke is Vader's son, Xizor had no reason to send bounty hunters after Luke to kill him.  
> \-- **Xizor's near rape of Leia** \- the idea that Xizor was willing to use his pheromones to the extent that he could date-rape Leia makes him a total skeez. I always hated the idea as it runs contrary to the fact he is supposed to be a highly desirable playboy type who likes a challenge. If he can shoot his pheromones across a room and have any woman he wants under his control, there is no challenge in that for him. Later stories have established that Falleen can use their pheromones to make people more open to suggestion since they find the Falleen more charismatic that way, but they don't use it as some kind of all-encompassing mind control as it was presented in the book. While I do believe Xizor _could_ use his pheromones to control a person if he wanted to, I choose to believe that doing so with Leia makes him irredeemable, so I have dropped the idea that he ever tried it.  
> \-- **Xizor's Residences** \- since Xizor was not hunting Luke in my AU and Vader did not find out about it, and since he never tried to date-rape Leia and Luke didn't have to rescue her from Xizor's palace, there was no reason for Xizor's palace or his skyhook to be blown up. He still has both of them.  
>   
> Further details will be cleared up as the story goes along, but they are not listed here since they would be spoilers.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Dark Prince of Black Sun, Xizor, is summoned to a landing pad where he meets with a lady from his past, someone who is supposed to have been dead since before the Rebellion's failed battle at Endor._  
>  Someone who wants to die, and wants him to be the one to end her life.  
> But Xizor sees the chance for her to take another path, to embrace the concept of revenge. He sees a chance for her to shed her old life and rise anew...

**  
  
Prince Xizor's Palace  
** **Coruscant - 4 ABY**

Prince Xizor of House Sizhran reminded himself not to hurry. It was more important to give the impression that he was every bit as calm and detached as he would be at any other time, that he was completely indifferent to this sudden turn of events. As a cold-blooded species, the Falleen respected discipline and control, particularly self-control. They tended to shun public displays of emotion, and were very patient. Xizor prided himself on his discipline and his ability to remain undisturbed by momentous news. The more cool and collected he appeared, the more his capos, aides, and various other underlings trusted his judgment and accepted his commands without challenge or question. That sort of unconditional loyalty was necessary when running a criminal organization as vast as Black Sun.

Xizor had managed to remain composed that fateful day when the Empire decimated the Rebellion at the Battle of Endor, putting an end to numerous side schemes the prince had been working diligently to bring to fruition, and thus completely changing the course Black Sun had slowly been turning toward. There was only one other day after that--one terrible, dark day--when his plans had been thwarted so abysmally that he had needed privacy in order to vent his anger; when he'd needed to resort to shouting, breaking things, and then sinking into a state of near despondency for almost a standard week.

But even in the depths of that despair, Xizor had still _publicly_ displayed an ostensibly confident and self-possessed demeanor, leading his organization to believe that he was, as ever, in control of the situation and that he was still planning for the future.

However, this particular news was far too significant for Xizor to move at anything less than a brisk walking pace. No doubt, if his lieutenant and enforcer, Guri, were actually a living being instead of an exquisitely made Human Replica Droid, she would have fallen behind by now. As it was, she kept pace with him the entire time, only a deferential half step behind him.

"You are certain that it's her?" Xizor asked as they turned into the final corridor.

"Reasonably so, Your Highness," Guri replied. "She transmitted the proper Black Sun codes, of course, or else she could never have gotten this far. Facial recognition scanners could not confirm her identity, however. I should warn you, Highness, she…" Guri kept walking, but she paused speaking for a significant few seconds, searching her positronic brain for just the right words. She knew how personally invested in this particular person her master truly was, though he would never admit to it himself. In this specific instance, in this one area of Xizor's life, his emotions sometimes overtook his otherwise rational mind. He was going to take this hard. "She is much changed."

Xizor gave nothing more than a small grunt of acknowledgement and a brief, terse nod of his head. The long black topknot at the crown of his otherwise hairless ridged skull bobbed slightly as it swept against the mottled green of his face. A moment later, as the landing pad doors six meters ahead of their present position opened, that tail of hair began to swirl in the Coruscant breezes. Here, fifty levels above the ground floor of Xizor's palace, the winds were more intense; as Xizor and Guri emerged on the pad, those same winds managed to move even Xizor's heavy robes, and Guri quickly tied her own hair into a tail at the base of her skull so it would not obstruct her vision.

Before them was a smallish, boxy freighter, scarred from many battles, but otherwise unremarkable. Yet, it was a ship that Xizor knew well. Now he knew whom he should have been looking for all this time, and he cursed under his breath at the obviousness of it all. Hindsight was a bitch, he thought.

Sitting on the lowered ramp of the vessel was a human woman, legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around her shins, forehead resting against her knees so that her raggedly cut dark hair flapped and fluttered over her arms in the wind. Her legs and arms were bare, pallid…and covered in dozens of angry-looking bruises of varying colors; some dark black or purple, an indication of how fresh they were, and many more fading to pale violet or sickly yellow with their age. Her limbs were far too thin, the bones showing beneath her skin, the joints of her shoulders, knees, and elbows appearing to jut out awkwardly, and one of her elbow joints no longer matched the other, showing clearly that it had been broken at some point and had not healed correctly.

Xizor quickly waved down the guards who had been flanking the ship at a distance, blaster rifles trained on the figure sitting on the ramp. They reluctantly lowered their weapons and Xizor took a step forward, moving as though to approach the ship. Guri's hand immediately grasped his arm in a restraining gesture, telling her master that the woman was armed with a vibroknife and had been violent when she first arrived, but Xizor shrugged her off. "She looks as though this wind will blow her away. I have nothing to fear from her."

Moving forward once more, he watched as the woman--realizing now that someone else was on the landing pad--jerked her head up and then quickly scrambled into a defensive position, half-squatting, half-kneeling on the ramp in a martial stance she had probably been taught many years ago, but which her body was not capable of following through with. If he needed to, Xizor thought, could easily disarm her with a flick of his wrist because she was clearly in no shape to handle an actual fight.

A large vibroknife was, indeed, in her hand, but it was her face that had all of Xizor's attention. The bruising on her legs and arms was bad enough, but her face had received much more abuse than the rest of her body. One eye was swollen nearly shut, and the opposite side of her mouth had been struck so severely that it, too, was swollen and misshapen. Her jaw had been broken at some point and, just like her elbow, had healed badly. Her remaining functioning eye was sunken deep in her face, and all the warmth had gone out of her dark iris to leave cold, black, hopeless sorrow. Her pupil was unnaturally dilated, suggesting she was under the influence of one drug or another, possibly more than one. But there was another reason for that dilation, Xizor surmised.

_She fears me_ , the Falleen prince realized, and given her malnutrition, obvious sleep deprivation, and drugged state of mind, Xizor wondered if she was completely aware of where she was.

Though he had once promised her that he would never do so, Xizor began to release his pheromones as he neared her, hoping to use them to calm her enough to move this business along quickly. Reaching out his right hand, his palm turned up as though offering her something, he laid his other hand over his chest and gave her a courteous bow of his head. "My lady," he addressed her in his velvet baritone voice, "do you not remember me? I had hoped that if you came all this way, and specifically to my own palace, you would have done so because you enjoyed the time we spent together." He smiled at her gently when he saw her stance relax minutely.

"Xizor," she whispered.

He could not hear the word over the wind, but he saw her speak his name. Now he gave her a more full and elegant bow, doing his best while his head was lowered to quash his anger. Guri had warned him about the state the young woman was in, but now that he could actually _see_ her, his rage had bubbled up. The girl was starved, she had been beaten multiple times, and she was dressed in nothing more than a ragged tunic. By all the stars, Xizor wanted her abuser here under his own hands! How she had ever managed to escape him was a wonder. 

The prince forced his rage down, pasting a soft expression on his face and reaching for a place of serenity and composure while pushing his pheromones outward towards the girl before him, hoping the breeze would take them to her instead of carrying them away. He moved forward steadily but slowly, conveying gentle tenderness, wanting to be close enough for his body chemistry to affect her. He was not certain he could counteract whatever drug was in her system, however. He could only hope.

"Xizor," she said again, speaking with slightly more strength this time, and then she sank to her knees on the mid-point of the the ramp and began to sob.

He was beside her in an instant, lowering himself to one knee beside the ramp so that his head was even with hers where she knelt.

"I killed him," she sobbed. "This time, I was able to get to the knife. He had no idea it was coming. I killed the son of a bitch." Her words came all at once in a garbled rush, and now Xizor noted the blood spatter on her tunic and arms, dried and crusted over her hands. Knowing as he did who had once captained this ship, Xizor could only marvel at this young woman's ability to end the man's life.

"He tortured me. Beat me. Would not let me eat unless I did everything he wanted, and when I tried to die, he forced me to eat. He forced me to…to…to do everything he…" She had begun to tremble now, speaking of it, and Xizor could well imagine what she had been forced to do. He shushed her gently, assuring her it was all over, that she had ended it when she killed the man who had done this to her, but she turned her ravaged face to him with an expression of hopelessness.

"I still see him everywhere. His hands on me, choking me or hitting me or… Oh, gods of my fathers!" Her sobs came harder now, and Xizor had to fight the urge to take her into his arms to comfort her. She was in no fit mental state for that, he knew. Even laying one hand over hers as he did now made her flinch, drawing back in terror. She scrambled away from him, to the other side of the ramp, once again getting her feet under her, though she did not rise. The terror quickly gave way to something harder, and her eyes blazed fire as she bared her teeth in defiance.

Xizor, however, stood and bowed his head towards her in a gesture of respect. "My lady, I am deeply apologetic for all you have been through, and I will make it my mission to right the wrongs which have been done to you," he told her gently. "I beg you to tell me how I may help you now. You have risked so much to come so far, to come here to me. Tell me what I may do for you, and I pledge that I will be your most devoted and humble servant."

She looked at him, tears streaming down her misshapen, bruised face, but her expression was still one of anger and hate. "My lord prince…please...kill me." She held out the knife in both trembling hands by the blade, offering the hilt to Xizor. "In my state, I cannot do it efficiently and quickly. If I do it myself, I will suffer, and I have suffered enough these past months. You are the only one I can turn to, a warrior who understands what it is to end another warrior's life with dignity." Kneeling once more before him, she bowed her head over the blade in her hands. "Please, end my pain. Give me a clean death."

It took a moment--a long, tense moment--for Xizor to bury all the emotions her words had brought to him. He was enraged that she had been brought to such a point of despair, shocked that she would ask _him_ to take her life, and deeply saddened to know that _this_ was all the help she thought she could expect from him.

Xizor reached down and took the knife from her hands, but only so she would not cause harm to herself. Waving Guri over, he gave her the blade, and then dismissed her with another wave while he reached down to take the young woman by the shoulders. She flinched, but he her held her firmly, though with a gentle grip, as he spoke. "My lady, the very fact that you believe I could _ever_ be the one to end your life hurts my heart at the very core. If this is what you wish, however, I will bow to your demands, of course. But I have a condition for this service."

He drew her up to her feet, steadying her when he realized how poorly her own muscles were capable of doing the deed. "My condition is this; give me one month to change your opinion, to nurse your body back to health and your mind back from the edge of this dark pit you see before you," he said softly. "If your outlook has not changed by then and you still long for death, I swear to you that I will see it done for you. I promise that you will die painlessly and with all the dignity due to you. I give you my word, one warrior to another."

She hung her head and swiped away her tears, flinching from the pain that the action caused when her hand passed over the bruises on her face. "You are using your pheromones on me," she murmured.

Xizor nodded slightly. "I am," he admitted out loud. He could have denied it, and she would probably have believed him. In fact, if they were actually working, she would certainly have believed his denial. But he knew that he would get nowhere with her by lying to her. It was far better to tell her the truth. "I do so only to help calm you. You appear to be drugged."

She nodded in turn. "Spice. And others," she mumbled. "Many others. Drugs to make me stay awake, to make me sleep, to make mad with lust, make me compliant, and when those don't work, others to paralyze me so I couldn't fight back. So many things."

It was no wonder, Xizor thought, that his pheromones weren't working as effectively as they normally would have. But evidently they were having _some_ effect, or she would not have noted it. "I promised you that I would never use them to coerce you into doing something you have no wish to do, and I am keeping that promise, my lady," he assured her. "If you agree to choose staying here with me for a while as an alternative to suicide, it will be of your own volition."

"Pheromones don't work that way," she told him weakly, but with a spark of her old spirit.

"Good!" Xizor praised her. "You are arguing with me. If you can still find the will to argue, there is hope for you yet, my lady." He released her long enough to unclasp the fastening of his cloak, then he swept the garment over her, pulling it around her shoulders to help protect her from the wind and hide her emaciated form. "Shall we go inside? I am anxious to begin to your rehabilitation and see if I can convince you that it's better to go on living and plot revenge against your enemies than to let them win by killing yourself." As he spoke, he drew the hood of his cloak up over her head to further shield her from the wind.

She looked up at him, and once more he saw a flicker of spirit in her one working eye, but her voice was still listless when she argued back, "I have not agreed to your terms, Your Highness."

"Do you find them unacceptable? I am willing to negotiate with you, of course. But not on a landing pad, my dear. Let us go in and speak of these things in private. Perhaps over a fine meal?" He took her hand between his two, pressing her fingers gently. "Will you allow that much? We will proceed one step at a time, and the first step is going inside. Do you agree to it?"

She considered the terms for a long moment, looking down at their hands. Finally, in a small voice, she murmured, "Yes, Your Highness."

Xizor released her hand, then stood to one side as he swept an arm out towards the doors of his palace, indicating that she should precede him. On bare feet and trembling legs, she wobbled down the ramp and towards the doors as Xizor waved Guri over to his side once again. "Copy all the data from the ship, then have the vessel destroyed. Not scrapped, Guri. Utterly destroyed. There must be nothing left with which to trace her here."

"And the spaceport logs?" she asked, reminding her master that the woman would have had to clear through Coruscant airspace in order to get into the atmosphere, too.

"Naturally," Xizor confirmed. "You know how to handle these things."

"Class-A protocols. Yes, Your Highness." She gave him a brief nod.

Satisfied that the situation was in hand, Xizor caught up with his visitor in three long strides, cupping his right hand under her right elbow and wrapping his left arm around her shoulders in order that he might support her. She needed the help; she could barely stand on her own. Nevertheless, she once again cringed at his touch.

"I can walk," she protested feebly.

"Perhaps," Xizor allowed, "but it's certainly not worth the effort. Besides, we will make better time if you will allow me to carry you." But this time, he did not wait for her consent, merely sweeping her up into his arms. She weighed nothing, and Xizor felt his anger rising at this revelation, but he merely smiled charmingly through it. Though she tensed at first at this more intimate contact, the Falleen Prince merely increased the output of his pheromones, letting them wash over her so she would relax and be more at ease with his presence.

As they moved along and she began to lean into the support he was giving her, she mumbled, "You're doing it again."

"Ssh!" Xizor replied softly. "After I get you to the medical bay, you have my word of honor that it will be the last time you are under the influence of my pheromones unless you ask me for them. For now, however, let me do what I can to ease your mind and spirit."

She was in no position to argue, and they both knew it, so she did not try. She simply laid her head against his shoulder and let it happen.  
  


* * *

  
It was some half an hour after depositing her in the medical wing that Xizor sat in his private office while Guri gave him the report on what his team had found when they went through the ship. The HRD had downloaded the ship's logs and found personal holorecordings; she had already been through them herself, reviewing them at a faster speed than a humanoid eye could follow. Now, she played back the last file for her master, as it happened to be a recording of the freighter captain's last moments.

"He was careless," Guri concluded, nodding at the recording. "She had the blade for two weeks according to these logs, and he never saw it coming."

"And why not?" Xizor replied coolly, watching dispassionately as the young woman climbed atop her captor as he lay in the bed, The man backhanded her across the face with his fist as casually as if it was something he did every day--and doing it so hard that it knocked her off her knees and onto the floor--and growled at her about not moving fast enough. She hung her head in apology, but reached into a place in the side of the bunk to withdraw the vibroblade.

"The fool thought he had broken her and that she was fully and completely in his control," tapping a switch to end the playback just as the woman in the recording drew the knife back. Normally, he'd have enjoyed finishing such a recording and watching his young guest get her revenge, but at the moment he was too jealous that he did not have the opportunity to kill the freighter captain himself. Xizor shook his head, steepling his fingers as he sat back, reaching for tranquility while his reptilian blue eyes narrowed.

"She did not dispose of his remains," Guri went on. "We found him on the ship, still in the bunk where she killed him. He was castrated, and the recording shows it was done before he was dead."

Xizor gave Guri a darkly feral smile. "It's a far more merciful death than he deserved. I'm disappointed to know that he isn't still alive. She didn't have the luxury of _truly_ making him suffer. She had to act quickly out of survival. It would have been infinitely more rewarding to slowly torture him to death myself and let her watch until she was satisfied. I'd have still allowed her to castrate him of course."

Guri did not comment, continuing with her report. "We retrieved a large cache of credits from onboard, as well as the codes to three accounts of significant sums. All total, it comes to just over half a million credits."

Xizor frowned slightly. "It's hardly fitting compensation for all that she endured. Still, it's better than nothing. See that the funds are adequately laundered and recombined into a single account for the lady."

"Are you certain, Your Highness?" Guri asked, evidently as surprised as any droid was actually capable of being. She had already started the laundering process, of course, but she had assumed the money would go back into Black Sun's accounts.

Xizor reached out to flick on a display, and an image of the medical center materialized on his screen. There was surveillance all throughout his palace, and Xizor could look in on nearly any room at any time he wanted. He turned the display towards Guri so that she could see the young woman floating in an unconscious state in a bacta tank. "When I first met her nearly a year ago, I knew that this was a special woman. That she has lived through the hell she has known this past many months and still come through it with a fighting spirit only reinforces that belief for me. I vowed to her back then I would do whatever it was in my power to do to help her. I did not follow through adequately on that vow, and she is not the only one who suffered for it."

Xizor shook his head, rising from his chair to pace across the room and stare out a window looking over Imperial Center. "I believed that I could manage the Emperor, that I could bend him to my will given enough time and planning. But, just like that castrated wretch you found out in that freighter, I got careless, too sure of myself. It's only in hindsight I see what danger I brought on myself and how the rest of the galaxy has suffered for my hubris." He sighed slowly, nodding his head at this thought. "Ever since the Empire won the battle at Endor and crushed the Rebel fleet into near extinction, Palpatine consolidates his grip on the galaxy. One by one, worlds cower under the shadow of the second Death Star, capitulating as they sing the Empire's praises." Quietly, almost to himself, Xizor murmured, "This is not the galaxy I wanted to live in."

He huffed out another breath, expelling these dark thoughts before turning back to Guri. "I _owe_ her," he intoned gravely, pointing at the display. "And I have always paid my debts. The accounts of her captor will now be transferred to her, in full. They will be invested so her fortune may grow. If she decides to continue living, I will personally match the amount. I will do whatever I am capable of doing in order to fulfill my promise to her on the landing dock to help her find a new life... _and,_ if possible, to have vengeance against her enemies."

The prince gave Guri the mere suggestion of a shrug as he resumed his seat behind the large desk and turned off the display. "And if, at the end of the month, she still wishes to leave this life, then the accounts can be easily transferred back into one of Black Sun's dummy corporations."

Guri gave him a nod of acknowledgement. "As you wish, Highness. With your permission, I will contact Forvic to oversee the dismantling and destruction of the ship."

Xizor nodded acquiescence, assured his people would have every piece of the freighter melted into slag before nightfall. He gave his permission and dismissed Guri, intending to take some time to meditate and fully dispel all his disruptive feelings. But something else nagged at him, and before Guri made it to the door he stopped her. "Destroy the logs and recordings, too," he ordered her quietly. "She is never to see them again. But I want that son of a bitch's body torn apart before he's disposed of, and I want a recording of it delivered to me before nightfall."

When the HRD acknowledged the command, the Dark Prince of Black Sun once again dismissed her, satisfied now. He turned the display around and once more tapped the switch to turn it on. He watched the young woman floating in bacta, nodding to himself as he spoke quietly. "I will help you to forget this period of your life, my lady," Xizor promised her, as though she could hear him. "Together, we will wipe it out of existence." He watched a minute more while a 21-B med droid monitored the girl's vital statistics, then Xizor took one long, deep breath, exhaling slowly while he turned off the display. It was vital that he go to his private sanctum and meditate in order to rid himself of his concerns and his thoughts of this young woman. There was a great deal of business to attend to, and he had to be clearheaded. 

In the morning, he promised himself, he could take up this matter again. For now, meditation was more important.

* * *


	2. The Death of Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Dark Prince was the only being left in the galaxy she could turn to. She came to him to beg him to put an end to her misery. She came to him to die.  
>  But Xizor has other ideas in mind. Now it's time to see if he can convince his battered guest that life is still worth living, and that revenge is worth waiting for. He wants to convince her that he can offer an alternative path...one where her enemies pay for all that she has suffered..._

The physician, Doctor Curta, was a Bivall with white and green skin and soft golden eyes that conveyed deep concern and sympathy for his patient; she was stoically putting up with the medical droid removing myostim units from key muscle points on her arms, legs, and abdomen.

"You've made excellent progress," Curta said while tapping away at a datapad, making notes on his patient's medical file.

She shook her head in doubt. "Should we keep using those things?" she asked, motioning to the last stim unit as the droid placed it on a tray. "I've heard they can be detrimental in the end."

The myostim unit was a muscle-building device that used a sensor field coupled with an adjustable electromyoclonic broadcaster to maintain and increase muscle tone in lieu of exercise. The unit was originally developed to combat muscle atrophy on planets with low gravity, however this did not remain its primary function for long. Myostim units found use as a trainer for athletes and exercise enthusiasts galaxy-wide as a means of freeing up their time for other ventures while still remaining physically fit.

It was also especially useful for patients who had suffered muscle atrophy related to starvation who were not physically capable of exercise while in recovery.

The physician smiled encouragingly. "It is true," he said, "that prolonged use of the unit is thought to cause a certain amount of muscle dependency on the machine's sensor field. But that tends to happen after more than a year of continual use. I believe that you only require another week, at most."

"I could simply exercise on my own," the patient replied.

The physician patted her hand. "Not just yet, if you please. Your skeletal structure is still compromised." He scrolled through a couple of charts on the datapad as he spoke. "You've suffered too long from malnutrition and vitamin deficiencies. Be patient just a little longer. The bacta have been growing well, as have the bone knitters. But the re-calcification is not yet finished. You must avoid strenuous activity for the time being." As he made a final note and then saved the file, Dr. Curta turned a smile on her. "But there is good news. You should not need any further bacta tank treatments, so you won't have to stay in the medical ward any longer. And you can start eating solid food again."

This was unexpected news, and the patient raised her eyebrows in surprise while she pulled on a robe over the simple loose tunic and trousers standard to patients in medical wards across the galaxy. "Really?"

Curta nodded. "Light meals, of course. Until your body readjusts to eating, we must take things slow and easy. You may start with breakfast, but then you must keep to clear liquids for the rest of the day. The human body in particular is rather delicate when it comes to readjusting from starvation, but the time has come for you to start."

"Not a moment too soon," said a deep voice near the door, and both heads turned to face Xizor, Prince of Falleen.

Morning had come, and with it once again came the leader of Black Sun. _Of course_ , his guest thought. _Just like every day this week._ Ever since the night he'd taken her in, Xizor checked on her progress every morning before he handled any other business, speaking at length with the medical staff. Every evening, he came back before she went to sleep to inquire about her day and ask if there were anything he could get for her, making it clear that he would acquire it for her, no matter what she wanted, no matter what the cost might be.

This morning was no different. He swept into her chambers with all the regal air of a being who was well-assured of his lofty position in the universe, every centimeter of him now transformed into a princely guardian in all his grandeur. The cut of his robes was softer and less martial in nature than it had been earlier in the week, this time all in shades of blue. A calming color, his guest noted, and one that set off his dusky green skin and black ponytail in an attractive way. It also highlighted the fact that though his eyes might be reptilian, they were nonetheless a vibrant blue. His manner was courteous, his smile compassionate and gracious as he bowed before her, taking up her hand in his and tenderly grazing her fingers with his lips.

"I have had a light breakfast prepared for you," he began when the greetings and the physician's report to his prince were over with. "After a week of intravenous fluids, I thought it might be a nice change of pace. Will you allow me the pleasure of dining with you?"

His manner was so benevolent, so warmly genial that she did not know how to react. She had not experienced this kind behavior in many months. It was disorienting and disconcerting.

And yet, at the same time, it was effective. Old memories were awakening; responses drilled into her from infancy were swimming up through the fog in her brain, reminding her of who she had once been. It was as if Xizor was rebooting an operating system that had lain long dormant inside her. Before she realized she was saying it, she was thanking him for the food that she did not want and allowing him to stay and eat with her even though she had no plan to eat at all.

The physician and the medical droid withdrew and in their place came a service droid and a young Trandoshan to quickly set in place a small dinette table and two chairs before they ducked back into the hall. The medical suite she had been living in this past week was certainly more "suite" and less "medical," with comfortable armchairs and a sofa, and plenty of room to bring in the dinette set. Only the bed in the far corner and the many monitors hooked up to it spoke of the room having anything to do with medical treatment.

"You slept well, I trust," Xizor said when the service droid returned with a tray. It had not been a question.

The young woman eyed him skeptically. She had not actually slept at all this week until the previous night. She had fallen into short, fitful naps off and on over the last several days, rarely sleeping more than three hours at a time. But last night had been different for some reason.

When Xizor had made his evening visit, he'd suggested a walk in his garden before bed, and she had accepted the offer less out any real desire to do so than for the mere novelty of a change of scenery. They did not speak as they walked the paths of the large garden at the center of Xizor's palace. The transparisteel dome overhead had panels opened to the night air, allowing a subtle breeze to brush through the trees, shrubs, and flowers to awaken their aromas, surrounding the two beings who strolled through the foliage. The soft air, the fragrant plants, and the discreet lighting along the paths and in the fountain at the center of the garden were all incredibly soothing, she had to admit. But she could not bring herself to believe that this was all it had taken to give her a sense of serenity so deep that she actually _slept_ through an entire night.

"You drugged me to be sure I slept, I'm certain," she told Xizor now. "It's the only way to account for it."

He clicked his tongue at her and drew her towards the little dinette set with the slightest pressure on her hand. "My lady, you think too little of me. I would not drug you without your knowledge, nor did I need to," he argued gently as he pulled out a chair for her.

She drew her robe tighter around her medical ward attire while she considered him and the chair before gingerly sitting down. "How did I manage to sleep so long, then?" she finally asked.

Taking the chair across from her and motioning to the servant, Xizor answered, "Because you were certain in the knowledge that _here_ , you are _safe_. Knowing that was enough. Your body, I am certain, took care of the rest. Your exhaustion has been plain to see." He gave her a tiny knowing smile as the servant set the dishes before them, drew off the lids, and then withdrew with the food service droid. Xizor dismissed them and told them they could wait outside, and then he personally poured glasses of a sweet red-orange juice for both of them, encouraging his guest to try it.

She obliged, unwillingly in truth, but a moment later she could feel her expression showing surprise as she recognized the flavor. "Muja fruit," she half-whispered, a wistful look coming over her face. "I had forgotten…"

Xizor look pleased. "I do hope you like it, my dear. But only one glass today. Those are the physician's orders. You may have a taller glass of malus juice if you need more to drink with breakfast. It is much less acidic, and is mostly clear."

She looked down at the plates now and realized what had been set in front of her. There was a single egg scrambled together before cooking, a piece of lightly toasted bread cut into strips, and two pieces of Ithorian birambi cut into the cross sections that gave it its more common name, "the star fruit." More amazingly, she saw that the plate in front of Xizor contained exactly the same thing in the same portion sizes.

"You need to eat more than that," she remarked, concern on her face.

He placed his napkin over his lap as he answered. "When you are able to eat more, then I will eat more with you. Until then, I want you to know that I will be having exactly the same meal you are, and not a crumb more." His expression grew serious as he gazed across the table at her. "I give you my word that I am not cheating, either."

She believed him. She could sense he was telling the truth, but this only caused her to frown at him. "Emotional manipulation," she told him dryly, "is every bit as bad as if you were using your pheromones on me."

He chuckled in reply, lifting his glass of muja glass. "Perhaps I am just embarrassing you into getting better sooner," he suggested, smiling at her over the rim of the glass. "Maybe knowing that I am holding meetings among the elite of the criminal underworld while my stomach is rumbling loud enough that they can hear it will mortify you sufficiently."

She lifted an eyebrow in his direction. "Why should your stomach rumbles be embarrassing to _me_?" she asked lightly.

Swallowing the juice and dabbing at his mouth with the napkin, Xizor replied, "Because there is nothing dignified about that image when you think of me as your patron and benefactor."

She tried to continue frowning, but it came across more as a smirk and she was forced to admit privately that imagining the cultured, refined prince of Falleen sitting in meetings with a growling stomach _was_ actually more humorous than dignified. And since he was, in fact, her rescuer…

She blinked, frowning again and looking down at the fork and the knife on the table. When had she decided that? When had she agreed to be rescued, to be taken care of? She had come here to die, to ask for his help in ending the nightmare that these last many months had been. When had she decided to live instead? Did she really _want_ to live? Was last night's garden stroll a way of disguising the fact that he _had_ used his pheromones on her again?

Her sudden change in expression could hardly have gone unnoticed. "What is it, my lady?" Xizor asked, his voice full of concern but his tone both gentle and quiet.

"Your Highness," she began hesitantly, still not looking up at him, but her resolve became a bit more solid as she breathed in steadily. "Swear to me."

"Anything you wish," he replied at once.

"Swear to me you have not been…influencing me." She did not raise her head, but her eyes shifted so that she was cutting her gaze up at him. "These past few days, you have not used _any_ means of chemical control to make me change my mind."

The Dark Prince straightened regally in his chair, and his expression was both disappointed and slightly offended. Rising, he dropped the napkin beside his plate and moved to her side of the table, drawing a small vibroknife from his belt before dropping to one knee beside her. His blue eyes bored into her dark ones and he intoned the words with grave solemnity. "On the blood of House Sizhran and in the memory of my departed ancestors," he said, and he swiftly drew the blade across his left palm before balling his hand into a fist, "I swear this to you, my lady. Neither my pheromones nor any drugs have been used to influence you."

At another time in her life, in a different, more youthful stage of her existence, she would have exclaimed at such an impetuous gesture and tried to stem the flow of blood. But now, hardened as she was, it was not her gentler upbringing that came to the fore. Rather, the Deianeran warrior inside her looked dispassionately at the male kneeling before her and she held out her hand to him, silently demanding the blade. Warrior that he was, he understood what was about to happen, and with a quick motion he flipped the knife upward and caught the flat of the blade between thumb and forefinger, offering the handle to her. Her right hand closed around it, and taking it from him she drew the knife over her own left palm.

Xizor opened his hand, and she placed her palm in his, their blood mingling. Once more, his blue eyes met her dark ones. "Are you now satisfied, my lady, that it was you alone who made the decision to keep living?" he asked, gripping her hand.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Then," Xizor ventured, "let me now swear this to you, as well. I vow to be your true and honest liege man, now and forever," he promised gravely. "I pledge to give you my loyalty and honest counsel, to do everything in my power to protect you, and to help you punish your enemies, wherever they may be. I vow to give you my loyalty, my service, and most importantly, my _honesty_ in all things."

These were traditional words...but they were words that were traditional to _her_ people, not to his. They were words which switched on several more of those old circuits, making parts of her brain and her memory wake up and sputter to life as recollections of similar vows rose to the front of her mind.

This caused her pain as flashes of memory washed over her, visions of once upon a time on a verdant, peaceful world…a faraway past that was a lifetime behind her, too remote to be reached again by any course she was capable of plotting. She had to stop those recollections before she started longing for something that she could never have again. She turned her inner vision away from the past, charted a different course.

She had come here as to ask a favor from one warrior to another, and now she had the vow of a warrior, too. The warrior's path would be easier. Like the vibroblade in her hand, gentleness and softness had been beaten out of her until she had been molded into something else, tempered into something harder and unyielding. It was easier for her to reach for cold strength than gentle warmth.

She spoke the words in the Deianeran language first, and then translated it into Basic for Xizor. "I take thee at thy word, Warrior." She gazed at him directly. "I beg thy forgiveness for doubting thee," she added quietly.

He reached up with his right hand to softly stroke her cheek, pausing for a heartbeat when she flinched at his touch, waiting for her to relax again before he continued. "How can I fault you for doubting, my lady?" he murmured. He brushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. "Now, let us tend to these wounds and see if we can finish this breakfast without further bloodshed."

Releasing her hand, he rose and called for his servant, and when the young Trandoshan appeared, Xizor requested a med kit. The servant bowed himself out quickly, and returned only a few heartbeats later with the med kit in hand. He asked anxiously if a 2-1B med droid was needed, but Xizor waved this suggestion away, telling him it was unnecessary and instructing him to go back outside the door and wait until he was called.

His guest watched as Xizor applied a coagulant first to her hand and then to his own. After that, he turned his attention completely to his guest. He knelt before her and, with the gentlest of touches, he cleaned the wound, applied the bacta, and finally covered it with a patch of synthflesh. Finished with her, he rose and went back to his own chair before repeating the process on himself. When the task was complete, he used a sterilizer on the blade of his knife before sheathing it again on his belt, then tossed the med kit onto the table carelessly and flexed his left hand.

"This will sting a bit for a day or more," he complained mildly, giving her a mock-arch look. "The things I do for you, little one."

"I'm sorry," she told him quietly. "I just…I needed to be sure."

"Do not apologize to me again, my lady. There is no need for it," he said evenly, putting a forkful of star fruit into his mouth. "But what brought this on, if I may ask?"

She shook her head, picking up the fork and pushing a bit of egg around on her plate. "I'm not sure. I just realized that I did not know when I had decided to keep living. _How_ I decided that eludes me. It…it isn't what I came here for."

"All sentient beings have a resilient spirit and will to live, through even the worst of situations," he replied. "I know you to be a strong and intelligent sort of woman. You could have curled up and died months ago, robbing your captor of his prize. Yet you chose to live, despite everything he put you through." He gave her a gently encouraging smile, telling her, "The idea that you would seek death as your end after having freed yourself of his presence was brought on by nothing more than the fact you had no idea what to do next."

She shook her head slightly. "There is nowhere for me to go, no one I could turn to. I couldn't bear for anyone to see me like this. I'm not even sure why I came to you...except that Coruscant was close by. I saw it on the charts and seeing it, my mind went to you right away. And I know what a warrior you are under all your regal trappings," she added, gesturing towards him. "I knew you would give me a clean death."

"Death is far too permanent a solution to a temporary problem," Xizor replied, waving the notion away. "I took the gamble that if I could make you well again, help your body to heal enough that you were not wracked with continuous and distressing pain, that your will to live would revive as your body did so. I kept asking you to give me one more day, and each day you assented. On your own, I might add," he told her, stressing this last point, "and of your own volition."

She smiled at him ruefully. "You're saying that I fell prey to nothing more than your natural charisma."

"There is nothing 'natural' about it, my dear," he scoffed good-naturedly. "I have spent my lifetime cultivating that charisma, refining it and shaping it into a useful tool. And since I am more than one hundred years older than you are, I have had quite a long time to work at it."

She chuckled at that, surprising herself with the sound, and Xizor cocked his head to the side, smiling pleasantly to hear it. "Ah, there you are!" he exclaimed softly. "There is that spark of life come back to you. I am pleased. But, my dear, are you going to eat that egg or merely decorate the plate with it?"

She sighed, the smile falling away to be replaced with an apologetic expression. "I have never really cared for eggs," she admitted.

"Is it the taste or the texture that you dislike?"

"The both. I mean, the texture is fine, but I prefer them more well done, so that it's drier."

The prince nodded thoughtfully. "The physician has instructed that you are to have bland cuisine for your diet currently, until we can get your stomach more accustomed to food again, so we will have to continue serving you the common type of tip-yip eggs instead of a more exotic variety," Xizor explained kindly. "They are important to your health in the current moment, so I must ask that you eat them whenever served. But I will be certain to give my chef instructions immediately to change the taste for you," he assured her. "I hire only the best, so it will be easy for him to accomplish this. I am confident he has some method that will allow him to mask the natural flavor in such a way that it will be more palatable to you in the future. I will also make sure my staff is given the instruction to cook them through," Xizor promised. "You may skip it this morning, however," he allowed. He gestured with his fork. "Have some star fruit, instead. We can try egg again at lunch time so you have the protein you are supposed to get today."

She began cutting the fruit into smaller bites, and after a moment, she spoke once more. "If I promise to eat the eggs from now on, no matter how they taste," she said, "will you promise me something in return?"

Xizor swallowed the bite of toast he had been chewing and raised one hairless eyebrow ridge at her with a half-smile on his handsome face. "Another promise already, my lady?" he half-chided her. "The first one has given me a wound that has barely stopped bleeding."

"Will you, Your Highness?" she pressed calmly, refusing to take the bait.

"You already know you shall have whatever it is within my power to give you," the prince replied with sincerity, reaching for his muja juice.

"Then, I make this promise to you; I will eat all the eggs you serve me, regardless of their taste," she told him, her gaze still on the fruit she was cutting up, "as long as you promise to eat the meals you, as a healthy male of your species, _should_ be eating instead of sharing this diet with me."

He sighed noisily, setting the glass down with a small clunk and sitting back in his chair. But before he could open his mouth to argue the point, she added quickly, "After all, to preserve my own dignity, I must have you preserve yours." She then stabbed into a piece of the fruit with her fork and popped it into her mouth, chewing while she looked across the table at him, her expression all innocence.

Xizor chuckled despite himself, and then he laughed genuinely. "All right. All right, little one. I will make this deal with you. Starting at lunch."

"Starting now," she countered, running her fork under a portion of egg and lifting it above the plate, but not to her mouth. "I will eat this, and when you leave this room this morning, you will supplement this meal with something more satisfying for yourself."

He favored her with what he knew females found to be his most charming smile, his eyes half-closed and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "You drive a hard bargain, my lady."

"Do we have an accord?"

Xizor gave her a single nod. "I consent to your terms."

She nodded back, eyed the forkful of egg, and finally put it in her mouth. Determined now, she scraped up all the egg she had pushed around the plate, scooped it up on top of the strips of toast, and then picked up the toast and ate it. The taste of the bread helped to mask the egg, making it more acceptable to her, and she decided that if she ate it all now, then she could finish her meal with the star fruit to get rid of any unpleasant flavor that lingered and leave the table more satisfied.

"Any other boons that I can grant you, my dear?" Xizor chuckled, resuming his meal.

She thought it over while she chewed, and once she had swallowed, she said, "Access to the garden would be nice. I do better when I can be around plants and nature, when I can feel growing things under my hands." That, too, was one of those remnants of her past life, but it was one she could not discard. There were too many years of planetbound days in her past. She had never been raised on a space station or a skyhook--or on an ecumenopolis like Coruscant--where the absence of flora and fauna was a daily occurrence and so it was never missed. Her days had been full of nature; of tall, waist-high grasses, gently lapping seas, sunlight glinting off silver fish swimming upstream, and hundreds of trees bursting into bloom with blossoms that would, later in the season, rain down in a fragrant mass on the streets of the capital.

No, she could not do without the greenery at this stage of her life. It was too much a part of her.

Luckily, Xizor did not hesitate to grant her wish. "I will inform the palace staff that you shall be given full access to the garden," he assured her. "And while we are hovering near the landing for the subject," he added thoughtfully, "have you decided yet on a name? I shall need one to give to the staff. We may as well choose something you like since you will not let me call you by the one I already know."

_Don't call me that!_ she remembered snapping at him with a burst of violent emotion, something she had experienced only rarely in the past several months. _She is dead._

It had been when he found her on the floor of her chamber that second evening after her arrival, sobbing and hacking off her hair with the knife she had offered Xizor when she begged him to kill her the day before on the landing dock. Self-consciously, she reached up to finger the shortened locks that fell just below her jaw line. The medical staff had trimmed it into something more aesthetically pleasing, but she still felt awkward at having been caught in such a rash, emotional action. She also felt insecure in such a short hairstyle. She could not remember the last time her hair hadn't fallen at least halfway down her back. She felt now like she had cut away a part of herself.

And well, she had, hadn't she? She had cut away the person she was before, the slave who was so badly abused by the man who had captained the light freighter she'd flown here. Like removing gangrenous skin, she had done it to move forward, to put whom she used to be behind her and to start again, a new person. Xizor had assured her she would soon have a new face to go along with this new persona; not just a new face, but new retinal scans, fingerprints...even her vocal chords could be modified slightly if she wished that. She just had to decide who she was going to be, first. That was the part she did not yet know.

She looked across the table at her rescuer and shook her head. "Every name I can come up with is associated with my past in some way. I don't want to take the chance that someone might make the connection," she told him. She did not say, _And I don't want to be reminded, myself_ , but she knew she did not have to. The words hung in the air between them without being spoken aloud. "But I suppose we should try to come up with something sooner rather than later." She sighed, and then looked to him hopefully. "Or you could give me a name."

"Me?" he asked mildly. Again, one eyebrow ridge rose on his forehead.

"Certainly. You're the one stuck with addressing me the most often, and always as 'my lady' or something equivalent. Why don't you give me one? Something you won't mind using over and over."

"Hmmm." Xizor hummed with pleasure at the thought. He sat back again, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, and steepled his fingers together as he regarded her with a lazy half-smile. "Name you myself. The idea has merit…my pet." He chuckled when she made a face at his addition of the word "pet" but otherwise he regarded her thoughtfully. "Would you be willing to accept a Falleen name?"

"Would it be as harsh sounding as 'Xizor' is?" she countered with a half smile of her own.

Xizor chuckled again. "By the stars, no. The names for our females are softer on the ear. Mostly." He tilted his head to one side, looking at her thoughtfully. He wanted the name he chose for her to be appealing, to be something she would find pretty. At the same time, it had to be worthy of her, to be meaningful. "Perhaps I might call you…" He narrowed his eyes in thought, and then he smiled slowly. "Yes. I think I have it. I shall call you Deyja."

He pronounced the name, _Day-zha._

"Deyja," she repeated slowly, feeling the name on her tongue, tasting it. "That's lovely, Your Highness. I thank you."

"I'm pleased you like it, Lady Deyja," he returned with a gracious nod, acknowledging her thanks. "I will see to it that all the staff here are made aware and address you thusly from now on."

"Deyja" gave him a tiny smile in return, and then murmured the name to herself once more. Now she had a name again, one wholly unconnected to her past life. One to start over with, if she chose to. "Does it have any particular meaning attached to it?" she asked. "I know that not all species and cultures have meanings attached to names."

"Not all Falleen names do," Xizor agreed, "but this one does. It means 'remembrance.' In my culture, it signifies the commemoration of those we have lost, honoring their lives." His smile turned predatory then. "It can also mean remembrance of those who have done us wrong and must pay for their misdeeds." Rising from the table now, he dropped his napkin in his empty plate and moved around the table to her side, and then he held out his hand to her and waited a moment while she put her small hand into his palm. "However," he said, bending close, "I chose the name only with the hopes that you would find it appealing." He raised her hand to his lips, his eyes still on her face while his lips brushed a warm kiss over her fingers. "Beautiful women deserve beautiful names," he murmured.

She blushed and shook her head, avoiding his gaze. "I'm not beautiful," she insisted.

Xizor put the fingers of his left hand under her chin and gently turned her face back to his, but her eyes were cast down. "You are as beautiful to me as the day I first met you, my lady," he insisted. "Time will heal these wounds. Time and bacta and whatever treatment and reconstruction you want to pursue. But even without that, it is no matter to me." He straightened up to his full height, squeezing her hand once before releasing it, then tenderly stroking her head. "Finish your meal, my dear Deyja. You are free of the medical center, at last, and I have had a suite near mine made available for you. Come see me in my study when you finish here. I shall give you your choice of maidservant to assist you, and then you and she will go down to the storage levels so you may pick out whatever art and furnishings you wish to have in your chambers." He placed a hand on her still thin shoulder. "I have a seamstress scheduled to see you today, as well. When you are fully recovered and back to a normal weight, we will see that you have an extensive wardrobe. For now, however, let's keep things minimal."

She scoffed at the word "minimal." Her wardrobe so far in the medical center already consisted of a dozen sets of loose robes, far more than she needed since she spent most of her day floating in a bacta tank. "You have done too much for me already, Your Highness," she protested mildly. "There is no need to go to such trouble. Any pre-furnished suite on the guest level would be fine. In fact, any servant's chamber would be—"

"Hush, now!" he chided her gently. "I'm doing no more for you than I would for any valued member of my organization."

"Or any mistress," Deyja countered, and now she stood, looking up at him directly. "You have been exceedingly compassionate to me, Your Highness, and _more_ than generous. I cannot begin to think of how I will ever repay you for your kindness. I owe you so much." Tears pooled unexpectedly in her eyes, and she held them back with an effort. "But if you are expecting me to be able to repay you as your latest—"

He interrupted before she could finish that sentence, once more hushing her, just as tenderly but more quickly this time. "Deyja, my sweet," he addressed her warmly, taking both her hands in his own now and squeezing them gently, "I do not expect to have you in my bed as repayment for what I have done for you. I do not expect repayment _at all_. This is my way of making amends to you, for not getting you out of the situation you found yourself in. Had my people arrived sooner, I could have rescued you. I could have found out who had you so I could take you away from him. I spent the better part of a year searching for you in an effort to spare you any more than you had already suffered, only to find out that I had failed you and you were forced to rescue yourself."

He raised their joined hands to his chest, pressing them there so she could feel the beating of his heart. "I failed you, my lady," he repeated, emphasizing the words, "and for that, the _least_ I can do is help you in every way to establish a new life for yourself. What that new life will be I do not yet know, but I will find you a place here in the meantime. You are part of Black Sun now, not some servant of my palace. And no, my dear," he assured her with sincerity, "not my mistress. You are in no shape for that, frankly, and I understand very well that after all you have been through, the very thought makes you shudder with revulsion," he admitted quietly. "The purpose of installing you in a suite so near my own is not for the convenience of seducing you," he assured her, "but rather so that I am close by if you have need of me. Whatever the need may be. Advisor, comforter…sparring partner, perhaps," he said, a little grin setting his mouth sideways.

Deyja scoffed at that idea, ducking her head as the tears finally refused to be held back. She did not want Xizor to see her weeping yet again. She'd done too much of that already.

But he saw it nonetheless, and he released her hands so he might brush the tears away for her. "I'm doing all this only as a way to assuage my own guilt. You have incurred no debt to me for anything. But if you feel that you _must_ repay me in some way, then you can contribute your time and your talent to helping me in whatever way you are able in my business affairs. I ask nothing more. Do you trust in that?"

Deyja nodded mutely, trying not to sniffle. "Yes, Highness. And…thank you."

"Good. Let this moment be the death of Yesterday, and together you and I will create a new Tomorrow for you." He brushed away one last stray tear, and gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know you find no comfort in physical closeness now, my dear, but should it ever happen that you are willing again and you need a shoulder to cry on," he said as he caressed her cheek lightly, "I am here if and when you need me."

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "I will give you your privacy now, Deyja. Finish your meal and dress yourself, and I will meet you in my study for the selection of your maidservant."

The prince was nearly out the door when she called out to him, her voice firm now.

"My prince."

He stopped in the open doorway and looked back. "My lady."

She turned to him, the tracks of her tears having been swiped defiantly away now with her napkin, her head held high and her jaw firm. "No slaves."

He shook his head. "No, my lady. No slaves. I assure you," he promised her, thinking that for once in his many years of running Black Sun, he might have to reconsider by what means he was lining the organization's coffers. He might very well never be able to look at the issue of slavery the same way again.

Deyja seemed to exhale in relief. "Thank you, my lord prince," she breathed.

Xizor bowed from the waist. "Not at all, my lady." And with a small, reassuring smile, he turned and left, the door whooshing closed behind him.

Once she was alone, Deyja dropped back into her chair, wrapped her arms across her stomach, and rocked back and forth; her body was shuddering and shivering, an after-effect of all the physical contact she'd had this morning. Xizor had no idea how much every single, inconsequential touch affected her; he had no idea how badly her psyche and her body rejected even those simple hand kisses. She could not bear to be touched anymore, and what was worse was that her mind could not comprehend the tenderness that Xizor used. The abuse she had suffered these many months, that was different. The violence of it, the swift, hard, and strangely impersonal nature of it, she had gotten used to that, had built up mental and emotional barriers able to make sense of it and deflect it. It hurt, of course, but it did not _affect_ her.

But Xizor's kindness was unendurable, and his tenderness was impossible to process. She knew that he thought he was soothing her, calming her, as one would do with a skittish equine. She did not know how to tell him that he was making things worse instead of better.

She sobbed out the frustration for several minutes, rocking until it finally abated, then she pulled herself together as well as she knew how, sniffling just a couple of more times. She took her plate and dumped the remaining pieces of fruit into the reclamation unit and put the plate back on the table before opening the door to tell the servant from earlier that he could take things away. She waited while he and the food service droid gathered up the dishes and left, then Deyja turned to the closet set into the wall opposite her bed. The dozen of lovely shimmersilk robes Xizor had already provided her with hung there, and she chose one in a deep burgundy red and changed into it quickly. Then she brushed out the ruin of her hair and slipped on a matching silk headscarf that covered her head from hairline to the nape of her neck, mostly hiding what was left of her hair.

Deyja checked her reflection in the mirror. She was nothing to look at for any extended amount of time, of course, and she doubted that she ever would be again, but she was presentable. At least, in as much as anyone in her current condition could be. The red undertones of the silk lent a healthy color to her face, so she didn't quite look like a walking corpse any longer. Most of her bruises had healed completely, and she had both eyes open again, although the left one still looked slightly lower than the right. And while her badly healed broken bones had been re-broken, properly set, and healed again, nothing was in exactly the right place any longer. Deyja's face was mixture of odd angles and unexpected turns. She wasn't hideous, of course, but she wasn't exactly pretty anymore either, if she ever had been.

_Well_ , she thought to herself, _if this has to be "Deyja's" face, then I suppose there is no help for that._ She squared her shoulders and turned toward the door. It was time to start trying to live this new life Xizor had talked her into.

* * *


End file.
